"Friends must part. I am sorry you must go, Mr. Clarke, and I trust you may return safe. It seems only yesterday that you saved my brother's life, and I was so grateful and happy. Now he is gone."
"You should not think about it so much nor brood over it," answered the young man. "Grieving will not bring him back nor do you any good. It is not nearly so bad as if he had been captured by some other tribe. Wetzel assures us that Isaac was taken alive. Please do not grieve."
"I have cried until I cannot cry any more. I am so unhappy. We were children together, and I have always loved him better than any one since my mother died. To have him back again and then to lose him! Oh! I cannot bear it."
She covered her face with her hands and a low sob escaped her.
"Don't, don't grieve," he said in an unsteady voice, as he took the little hands in his and pulled them away from her face.
Betty trembled. Something in his voice, a tone she had never heard before startled her. She looked up at him half unconscious that he still held her hands in his. Never had she appeared so lovely.
"You cannot understand my feelings."
"I loved my mother."
"But you have not lost her. That makes all the difference."
"I want to comfort you and I am powerless. I am unable to say what—I—"